Silent Devotion
by SevenTreasuresxxx
Summary: Theidran would die for this man, countless times. A short story starring my character and my girlfriend's. M/M Fluff, inspired by Ocean Soul - Nightwish.


Winterspring was beautiful. Dazzling. Trees so majestic and high they skyrocketed into the sky, snow and ice forever hugging the leaves and branches, suspending the whole of Winterspring eternally suspended in time. The air was dry and freezing, biting exposed skin harshly, making it crack open with needle teeth. The very moisture in the air turned to crystals, floating about as if swimming. It was the perfect place to get lost in forever, hide away and never be found. It was perfect for Hibernumbra, a House apart of the Ravenholdts.

House Hibernumbra, known by little. Just how it was preferred when it housed rogues. However, Hibernumbra was never known, and it died for a second time, forever suspended in Winterspring. The House was buried under snow ten feet deep along with the Highbourne buildings in the area. No one have ever known it had ever existed, except the rogues who were trained there. Betrayal, conspiracy, and murder had collapsed the once mighty House, leaving it without a Leader. And without the Headmaster, the students dispersed into the frigid snow, swept away like leaves and lost.

However, there was a student who was left behind. This leaf still clung to its branch frantically... Afraid to be lost.

A young man stood within the empty, dead House. It was so silent it put him on edge as he walked the halls, soft-soled leather boots making his footsteps next to nonexistent coupled with roguish grace. He had his eyes cast forward with a determined stare, his face cast into shadows by his hood as he held up a lantern. It had been years since he'd been here… Each hall and room pulled at his heart as memories of young trainees running around rampantly. He had been one of those trainees. But he steeled his emotions and continued down the cold hall.

His feet brought him up flights of stairs that lead to the very top floor of the House. He turned a corner and stood facing a door that looked to be mauled by a grizzly. He turned the knob and pushes it open, the hinges groaning loudly from years of sleep. His ear twitched at the loud noise, and he frowned, slipping into the room and putting down the lantern on a desk in the middle of the big room. He looked upon the work desk, and then at the toppled furniture in the room, and finally to the broken window that had leaked snow into the room. The study, like the rest of the House and Winterspring, was trapped permanently in time…

"Lord Nic…," he sighed nostalgically, picking up a stiff piece of paper. It read '_December, Hibernumbra Report 36'._ His eyes looked over the page, written in perfect script by an ink quill. After a quick glance, he saw said pen and dried ink container on the desk. He put down the report and sat on the high leather chair that the Headmaster had once sat at. He carefully started pulling apart the drawers and hidden compartments, watching for traps that would cut off his meddling fingers. He didn't find anything. Sitting in the chair made him want to stay further, his thoughts returning to three years previous, when Lord Nicholai was still alive and House Hibernumbra was promising.

It was his fault that none of that was true… He grimaced, slamming the drawers shut and covering his face with his gloved hands. Frustration turned to hatred. Hatred turned to self-despise. And that swiftly turned to sorrow… It was one more night that he had to bear the nightmare that happened three years ago.

0-0-0-0

Two days later, he returned to his home in Eversong. His mechano-hog ruining any sort of peace the forest held as its engine ripped through the air of the silence. He followed the main path until he swerved into a hidden path that lead to the desolate mansion that was his new home. It was late at night, past midnight, and he knew that the one he shared the home with was waiting for him up there. He'd given up scaling walls, instead growing out of his rebellious teenage habits and instead opted to take the front door. The maids were dismissed already, and so he was greeted with dead darkness. No candles were left alive, even the cats he housed had went to bed somewhere.

His heart beat in his chest harshly, and he put a hand over it to keep it within his body as he climbed the stairs to the master bedroom. He hated leaving Varaelian alone for so long. Two days was far too long for him, even though it shouldn't have felt like it… His soul was lonely after relationship after relationship failed to keep him above water. He still clung to the young paladin like a floating lifesaver in the middle of the churning ocean. Each day he walked the tideline, the waters threatening to drown him as it had during his entire childhood growing up. He never wanted that again, and it seemed only Varaelian saved him.

He knew the paladin had heard him even before he opened the door to their room. There, he saw a familiar frame sitting at a plush chair by a lamp, their back turned to him. "Van?" he called, the nickname of the blonde paladin.

Varaelian didn't even seem to twitch, his fingers not leaving the page. "Theidran? Is that you?" he heard, Van's voice quiet and curious. But, he knew the paladin was being cold. He had been gone for so long, after all. He hadn't even told him where he had gone. Definitely a mistake now that he thought of it.

"Van…" Theidran sighed, his eyebrows knit together with worry as he approached the other man. He cracked a half-smile, forcing out a laugh. "I'm home!"

Varaelian turned around on his chair and looked at him with those eyes, so colorless but showing a rainbow of emotions. The other's stare stabbed him when he noticed the little tick beneath his eye, betraying his sorrow. Theidran was stopped in his tracks momentarily, afraid that if he approached closer he would invoke the wrath of his love. However, he was willing to take the beating if only to hug him. He knelt down to Van's height on the chair, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and digging his face against his neck, the loneliness he felt immediately melted by Van's body heat. The response was slow and hesitant, as if unsure how to react. But Van returned the embrace just as desperately, shutting his bland white eyes tight.

Theidran held him tighter, whispering against his neck, "I'm sorry, Van…" He combed his deceivingly delicate fingers through blonde hair, long and silken, letting his soul once more find energy within the other's presence.

Varaelian returned the gesture by placing his hand on Theidran's head, sliding over his soft ink black hair that was cut a bit short of his shoulders. The paladin held him dearly, delicately even. "I-It's alright, Theidran…," he muttered, smiling against his hair.

Theidran knew it wasn't all true. He felt Van's hurt clear as crystal, the bond between the rogue and paladin allowing him this. He leaned back and smoothed his fingers across his cheek, looking into his blind eyes, and calmly leaned forward a few inches to kiss him softly. Soft like a feather. He felt Van return it, and began kissing him over and over, slowly kissing along his mouth to his cheek, and up to his eye. Van was by far his most cherished person. He cared for this paladin more than he thought possible. In his heart, he felt that even though his previous partners in his hundred year life, Varaelian was made for him, and he for him.

"I mean it, Van. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for leaving, and not leaving a note, or sending a letter, or saying good-bye." He paused for a few moments. "I'm sorry I wasn't there in the morning with you, or there when you went to bed—" He was cut short of his apologies by Van forcing a kiss on him. He submitted moments after.

He was devoted to Varaelian, his blind prince. Even if his devotion was silent… it was there forever. He sealed his promise as he'd done countless times by pulling Van's hand up and kissing each finger, the back, and to his thin wrist. The blonde man blushed at the action, smiling down at him.


End file.
